All in This Together
by Spammi
Summary: It's the summer after 6th Year and Harry has to find the remaining Horcruxes in order to defeat Voldemort. Luckily, he has more people supporting him then he realised. HBP spoilers


All in This Together – Chapter One

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-But-Wished-He-Hadn't, lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was fully clothed, but then again that didn't really mean anything: throughout the summer holidays the only time he actually bothered to change was when he had a shower and put on some clean clothes. Other than that he didn't really see the point.

Occasional blinks and the steady rise and fall of his chest were the only signs that Harry was indeed alive. He hadn't moved all day, having seen no need to. He simply lay there, not even being disturbed by his so-called family. At one point he thought he had heard his aunt outside his door, but there was no knock and he couldn't be bothered to get off his bed to find out.

For the most part, the Dursley's had left him alone since his return from Hogwarts. It had taken a lot of effort on his part to convince Ron and Hermione that he should be left alone for the beginning of the holidays. He wanted time to grieve for the death of his mentor, Albus Dumbledore, without his best friends hounding him. Besides, he had reasoned, where would they stay if they came with him? There certainly wasn't enough room for three teenagers to sleep in Harry's room at Number Four, Privet Drive, and it was doubtful that the Dursley's would allow two more wizards under their roof.

So it was with many warnings to be careful and reminders to write and repetitions of "yes, I will be fine!" that Harry was allowed back to the Dursley's. Of course, no one could understand why he would want to return, and Harry didn't explain. It had been Dumbledore's wish that he return until his 17th birthday, so return he did. Not that he knew what good it did. He left the Dursley's alone and they left him alone.

Well, mostly. Hogwarts had remained open only for a further four days, although many students had been called home by anxious parents. The news of Dumbledore's death had spread quickly and many felt it was unsafe for their children to stay at the school without the protection of the old wizard. Harry himself, along with the majority of the upper school, had stayed. Then he had been brought home by a guard made up of the Order. They had turned up on the doorstep, Harry looking small and alone. One look at him and Petunia had sent him into the kitchen before beckoning Remus Lupin into the hallway. It wouldn't do for the neighbours to see these weirdo's on her doorstep, now would it?

Lupin had explained that Harry wished to stay at Privet Drive until his birthday, when he would then go to the Order of the Phoenix Head Quarters. He did not, however, inform them of Dumbledore's death. He felt they would not understand the importance of this event, and in any case, it was best for them to think that there was the possibility he might come to visit, same as he had the previous summer. At least that way they should treat Harry fairly.

So Harry had endured glares and snide comments. The Dursley's had obviously heeded Dumbledore's comments from last year: Harry was in danger from being killed by the Dark Wizard Voldemort, and Privet Drive was, for the time being, his safe haven. This of course meant that the Dursley's were in danger, as they were harbouring a marked boy (literally, Harry's lightning bolt scar still stood out like an insult to the Dursley's, who despised anything they considered not to be normal). And the Dursley's did not like this idea one bit.

Fearing for their own lives, the Dursley's took their anger out on Harry. When he didn't react to their jibes, it only got worse. There would be days when they would completely ignore him and leave him to fend for himself (once they had even gone so far as to lock him out of the house, but an angry letter from one Minerva McGonagall had forced them to allow him entry once more. They still didn't know how she had found out, but they blamed Harry anyway and didn't allow him any food for two days). Or there would be days where they would leave lists of chores for him to work his way through, chores that kept him busy for the entire day. Of course, Harry reflected, he wasn't sure which he preferred, being left alone and not having to deal with his aunt and uncle, or being kept so busy that he didn't have time to focus on his pain.

Eventually, he had grown tired of being a slave, and had retreated to his bedroom, leaving it only to go to the bathroom. The Dursley's didn't complain. The less they saw of him, the best, and it wasn't like they could just leave the house when they wished. No, they were certain that they were also now on a wanted list, and decided not to risk their lives by going outside.

Harry heard and felt his stomach growl violently and turned his head so he could see his small clock. He squinted at it and saw that it read 10:30pm. He could still hear his uncle downstairs and knew it would be a while longer before he could venture downstairs for food. Harry had crept downstairs when he was sure they were all asleep in order to keep himself from starving: he had long since been banned from joining them for meals. If the Dursley's noticed small amounts of food missing, they never mentioned it.

He sat up and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms before reaching for his glasses and putting them on. He hadn't cried for over a week now, indeed he felt as though he had no tears left to shed, but still his eyes constantly felt as though he had only just stopped sobbing. He leant back against the wall and stretched his legs out on the bed, glaring at the toe he could see poking out of a hole in his sock.

Looking around the room, Harry decided that he definitely would not miss this place. He eyed his cousin Dudley's many broken toys with distaste and wished he had not left most of his belongings with Lupin. He knew he would not need most of them and so had felt it would be easier to just send them straight to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, but now he found himself longing for them – at the moment he even felt willing to read a Potions textbook, anything to save him from immense boredom.

He tensed. _Potions textbook…the Half-Blood Prince…Snape…murderer…_ His thoughts turned to ones of anger and he wished for the millionth time that he knew where Snape was. He wanted to kill him, for being such a dick all these years, for being a slimy git, for being a Slytherin…but most of all, for murdering Dumbledore. Slowly, everyone Harry cared about or who cared about Harry was being taken away from him: his parents, Sirius, and now Dumbledore. And he had come to realise that it was all Snape's fault. If Snape hadn't told Voldemort of the prophecy, Voldemort may not have tracked down Harry and his parents would still be alive; if Snape had not constantly jeered at Sirius for being cooped up in the house while he was out risking his life, Sirius would not have recklessly rushed to the Ministry that night…if Snape had not cast the killing curse, Dumbledore would still be there, helping Harry search for the remaining Horcruxes.

_The Horcruxes…_Harry had not allowed himself to think of them much. He felt guilty for not already having started his search, but really, what could he do while he was still at Privet Drive? Besides, he really had no idea where to start looking. Two had already been destroyed, Tom Riddle's diary and Slytherin's ring, one was Voldemort himself, but what of the remaining four? He knew the locket was one, but it had been removed and replaced with a fake, and who knew where the real one was now? As for the other three, Dumbledore himself had only guessed at what they might be.

Harry sighed, once again thinking that perhaps this was all in vain. Did he, a sixteen-nearly-seventeen year old boy, really stand a chance against the world's evilest, most powerful wizard? He almost laughed at the irony. How could the wizarding world expect him to triumph? But then again…they probably didn't. As long as he succeeded in getting rid of Voldemort, no one cared what else happened.

The creaking stair alerted Harry to his uncle coming upstairs. He held his breath as he heard the man shuffle along the hallway, pausing outside Harry's door. Vernon Dursley listened for a few minutes before continuing down the hall to his own bedroom. Harry slowly exhaled and closed his eyes, feeling slightly dizzy. _Note to self…not a good idea to hold your breath for a long period of time having eaten next to nothing…_

He watched the clock for a further twenty minutes, before he could be sure that his uncle had fallen asleep. He carefully climbed off his bed and opened the bedroom door, once again grateful that it had not been locked from the outside. He strained his ears in the darkness, but heard only a grunting snore from Dudley's room.

He tiptoed out of his bedroom and crept down the stairs, resting his weight on the banister so he could jump over the one that creaks. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a banana and apple from the fruit bowel before pouring himself a glass of orange juice. He downed it in one go and quickly poured another before settling at the table and digging into his midnight snack.

He had just finished his banana and dropped the skin into the bin when he suddenly felt an overwhelming flood of anger hit him. It coursed through his veins and he screwed up his face, glaring at nothing. He felt his breathing quicken and took several deep breaths. "AHHHH!" He yelled and swung round, slamming his fist into the wall.

He gasped and let out a moan of pain upon impact and as quickly as it had come, the anger fled. He stood in the middle of the kitchen clutching his hand to his chest, hot tears welling in his eyes, wondering why he had suddenly felt so angered. White hot pain suddenly pierced his forehead as his scar burned and he collapsed on the floor, screaming and holding his head in his hands.

"POTTER!" A light came on upstairs and two bedroom doors opened. Vernon thundered down the stairs, followed by a more anxious Petunia and a curious Dudley. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL -" The three of them appeared in the kitchen doorway, Vernon shocked into silence at the sight of his nephew writhing in pain on the floor and screaming loud enough to wake the dead.

Petunia gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. She turned wide-eyed to her husband who was watching Harry with a mixed expression of anger, distaste and horror.

"Dad, make him stop!" Dudley whined from behind them, his hands clapped over his ears.

As if awoken from a trance, Vernon jumped forward and seized Harry's forearm, pulling him roughly to his feet. Harry continued to scream and tried to pull out of his uncle's grasp, lashing out with his other arm.

"LISTEN HERE BOY!" Vernon roared over Harry's tormented yells. "IT'S THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE PLAYING AT?" He shook Harry as the boy only screamed louder, his eyes clenched shut in pain and hand rubbing at his scar.

"Vernon!" Petunia squealed as a particularly violent shake caused Harry's head to whip back with a crack. Vernon dropped Harry and they watched him curl up on the floor, a sobbing, screaming wreck. Petunia glanced to the front of the house, certain they would soon hear the neighbours knocking on the door to find out what was going on.

Harry's screams suddenly stopped and he lay on the floor, shaking and taking deep, shuddering breaths. He bolted upright and turned, retching. The Dursley's watched in horror as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then collapsed back onto the cold floor, breathing heavily.

Vernon blinked stupidly while Petunia nervously came forward. She filled a glass with tap water and approached Harry, who still had his eyes closed.

"Here," She went to speak, but had to clear her throat as all that came out was a strangled croak. Harry cracked an eye open and carefully sat up, accepting the glass and sipping it, feeling the cool liquid soothe his rough throat. He closed his eyes as his head started to pound.

"What…what was that?" Petunia was almost afraid to ask.

"He's angry. Very angry." Harry croaked in a dull, flat voice, remembering the vision.

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_Well, what do you think? Hope ya'll liked. Please r I'll give you a cookie! Hehe. Dunno when I'll get this updated cuz I've got exams and stuff, but hopefully it won't be too long._


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